


You Drive Me Crazy, but it Feels Alright

by bumbum_ittybitty



Category: Check Please! (Webcomic)
Genre: Karaoke AU, M/M, Mutual Pining, X Factor Samwell Men's Hockey Team ver., fluff!
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-27
Updated: 2016-09-27
Packaged: 2018-08-18 06:18:37
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,402
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8152061
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bumbum_ittybitty/pseuds/bumbum_ittybitty
Summary: Riding off a post-win high, the SMH team ends up in a Karaoke bar. It turns out Eric Richard Bittle is very really good at karaoke.





	

**Author's Note:**

> This is the first Check Please! work I've posted, I hope y'all like it! There's a few more in the works, but lemme know if there's anything you'd like to see! <3

Eric was in full agreement to go out for celebratory “age appropriate drinks” after their win in Philadelphia. They would be staying at a hotel that night, so there shouldn’t have been much rejection. Shitty had begged the coaches to release them under his and Jack’s care, to which they relented, since Jack would ensure the boys all avoided a trip to County. 

So the team headed to Happy’s, a family-friendly nightclub—an odd combination—where most guests were eating greasy dive food, leaving a few adults to find refuge at the bar or on the dancefloor. The frogs were smart enough not to try and drink, electing instead to settle into a table near the dance floor. Most of the boys went off to see if anyone would dance with them, leaving Eric to float about, earning congratulatory ass smacks from whomever happened to walk behind him. The team they had played also seemed to be in attendance, and it was obvious that there was no bad blood; everyone was celebrating in such a lively place, it seemed impossible for anyone to be unhappy. Maybe that’s why the place was called Happy’s. Eric knew better than to believe that, however, as he caught sight of Jack sitting at the bar, watching over the establishment as if he weren’t really sitting there himself. 

“Good game, captain,” Eric smiled over as he slid into the bar stool beside him. The bartender eyed him curiously, earning him a stern look from the southern boy. “I don’t want no drink, just keeping my friend here company.” The older man shrugged and turned to help another customer, although wary of where Eric’s hands were sitting.

“Why don’t you go dance with Ransom and Holster,” Jack felt awkward having to lean in to ensure Eric heard him, “they’ve been trying to get your attention, y’know.”

“Oh, I know,” Eric sighed, “but those boys are too rowdy for me. I don’t think I could muster the energy to dance after playing a game like that.” The mention of hockey guaranteed Jack’s attention, as he leaned in closer to discuss how Eric’s quick pass in the second period had been, as he put it, “cool”. Eric laughed as he stammered to reword his phrase until Eric insisted he keep it that way. “No, it was cool, the puck was on ice after all.”

“Oh c’mon, you know what I meant,” Jack chuckled. “Alright, alright, no more compliments from me.”

“No!” Eric cried aloud, earning him a hush from a startled Jack. “I cannot live without my captain’s gracious praise!”

“Guess your days are numbered, then.” Eric gasped, hand flying to his chest in exaggerated pose.

“My own captain, forsaken me and left me to die,” he let his hand fall to symbolize his heartbreak, barely able to keep a straight face. Jack laughed an open laugh, bringing his knee up to rest his elbow on it.

“Bittle, I’ll feel bad if you’re sitting here to babysit me.” The change in tone was obvious, although it wasn’t one that Eric perceived as negative.

“Not babysitting,” Eric sighed as the wary bartender brought him a glass of water—and Eric offered him a very southern, very frigid thank you—before turning to face the crowd. “Like I said, I’m not really feeling up to party.” Now Jack raised his hand up in shock, settling it over his broad chest. Eric tried not to stare.

“Eric Bittle, unable to dance,” he attempted to fake his accent, only for an odd French-Canadian-Texan tone to spew from his mouth. Eric laughed heartily, and pretended not to notice the warm smile that spread Jack’s cheeks. 

“Don’t tease me, Mr. Zimmermann,” Eric sighed, wiping a tiny tear from his eye, “I am always able to dance. I’m just not in the mood.” Jack nodded indignantly, much to Eric’s chagrin. He was about to argue him on it when a voice came over the speaker system, lulling the music down to a quiet hum.

“Alright!” the enthusiastic voice echoed around the club, “You all know what time it is!” The crowd all cheered loudly and began to crowd around the far side of the dancefloor, with many people settling back to form a denser audience. “That’s right! It’s…” 

“Karaoke Time!” the crowd chimed in to finish the announcer’s statement. Eric nearly squealed at the mention of it; he hadn’t sung karaoke in years. The entire club seemed into it, which came as a surprise, since karaoke was usually, at best, a few really enthusiastic patrons surrounded by an embarrassed, shy, or overall uninterested audience. 

“That’s right! DJ Happy is here with all y’all’s favorite hits and beats… who’s first?” The crowd exploded in excitement. Eric was almost certain he could feel the shouts banging against his poor brain.

“Oh my goodness, Jack!” Eric turned to Jack, whose eyes were settled on the packed crowd. His pupils were contracting—Eric didn’t pride himself in his ability to notice that—and the hand wrapped around his glass of water was tightening just a bit. Eric really didn’t expect him to be a karaoke buff, but his trepidation was obvious. “Y’know we can just watch?”

“It’s not that…” Jack groaned, turning his back to the large crowd that was all vying for the first song. “Bittle, you should go over there.”

“Do you want me to leave you alone, Mr. Zimmermann?” Eric placed his hands on his hips dramatically, earning himself a warm chuckle from the shaky Jack. 

“No.” He turned and met eyes with Eric, sending a shock down the poor blonde’s spine. Had Jack meant to be so damn intense? He wrote it off as his usual stoic façade cracking into normal human emotion… but damn he wished he could always see Jack’s eyes look so warm, so inviting.

The music picked up, and when Eric turned to look over, he nearly chocked on his water at the sight. A very buzzed Ransom and Holster were perched on the short makeshift stage, microphones in hand, as the beat began to bump. The tone was instantly obvious, and the thought of those two singing together was enough to leave Eric’s cheeks sore with laughter.

“Everyone’s lookin’ for love, oh ♪” Ransom began to sing, his face completely serious.

“Ain’t that the reason you’re in this club, oh ♪” Holster looked out at the audience, his hips jerking to the beat. The crowd was losing it as they moved around the stage in what almost looked like choreography. Even Jack was laughing as the two twirled around each other.

“In my head, I see you all over me. In my head, you fulfill my fantasy ♪” The two had resulted to dancing that would put Chris Brown to shame, all hips and leg. Eric would be lying if the lyrics didn’t have him giggling all on their own, and that the way the crowd had begun gyrating to the words weren’t making his neck hot.

“You’ll be screaming ooooh… In my head, it’s going down in my head, going down in my head ♪”

“Those two are ridiculous,” Jack was laughing earnestly as the two bowed to the praise of the crowd. The smile on his face was deeply warm, which could also be used to describe the feeling Eric felt burning in his chest. 

The crowd was whooping for another singer, and some girl launched onto the stage to begin singing out Beyoncé’s “Single Ladies”, causing poor Eric to nearly throw himself onto the dance floor. It wasn’t until he was already in the mix that he noticed Jack had followed him. It was odd—well, more outrageously surprising—to see him sway lightly, just moving enough to pass for dancing. Eric was moving all on his own, hips swaying to the music in tandem with the beat.

The dancing was so enrapturing; Jack couldn’t imagine looking away. Instead he settled his eyes just a few inches from where Eric’s hips swayed and bobbed. Torture would be a good way to put it, but Jack was not about to get caught looking his teammate up in the middle of a club.

“Alright! That was fantastic!” DJ Happy called over the speakers. “Who’s next?” The crowd was obviously eager for the next performer, but it didn’t seem that anyone was brave—or drunk—enough to indulge the audience. 

“Bitty, you should go!” Holster bumped into Eric drunkenly, laying his elbow on the smaller boy’s shoulder. 

“Oh yeah, let ‘em have it Bits!” Ransom and Shitty leaned in, egging him on. It was obvious that Eric was trepidatious, even as they nudged him towards the stage and launched him onto the platform. DJ Happy, whose little station was situated just off the stage, came around to crouch beside Eric. They were whispering intently—the DJ gave off a very fatherly feel and seemed to calm Eric down a bit—before they threw each other a thumbs up. DJ Happy retreated behind his turntables, tuning up the music to get the crowd hyped again. Eric stood shakily, smiling despite the way his knuckles were turning white over the microphone. Jack hadn’t seen him quite this uncomfortable before, even when they’d first began the checking practice. His smile was warm, but just uneasy enough to spell out that he’d rather be down watching than up on the stage. Weird, since Eric never had a problem belting out in song when he was with the team.

The music began, and the beat was steady with a distinctive 90’s pop feel. Jack was at a loss for what song it was or who sang it. Eric was patting his hand on his thigh, waiting for the beat to erupt into the lyrics. Suddenly, as if he’d been acting the whole time, he brought the mic to his mouth with such attitude, Jack nearly choked.

“Baby, I’m so into you. You got that something, what can I do? Baby… you spin me around, oh… The earth is moving, but I can’t feel the ground ♪”

Jack’s face immediately burned hot as the crowd whooped and cheered. Eric was swinging his hips and arms to the beat, shimmying his shoulders in a dance that Jack could only describe as lewd. Ransom and Holster were going absolutely nuts, jumping around and hollering encouragement, whereas Shitty—now accompanied by a very buzzed Lardo—was attempting to recreate the magical movements Eric was performing.

It didn’t help that everyone else in the club could see just how smooth Eric was able to move. It was suddenly like Jack was on the ice surrounded by hostile opponents all gunning for his goal. Except, no one was looking at him. No, everyone’s full attention was on Eric.

“Every time you look at me… my heart is jumpin’, it’s easy to see ♪” Eric’s accent paired so perfectly with the pop lyrics, and his mellow gaze was just dark enough to accentuate his words. Jack was trying to focus on his singing, but he was caught up on everything that was Eric in this moment: sexy, alluring, and worst of all, out of his reach.

“You drive me crazy! I just can’t sleep… I’m so excited, I’m in too deep. Oh, crazy! But it feels so right… Baby thinkin’ of you keeps me up all night! ♪”

“Dude!” Shitty crashed into Jack’s shoulder, nearly sending them both to the ground, “Bitty is fuckin hot!”

“Boy’s got moves, he’s got this whole place jumping,” Lardo nodded appreciatively towards the stage. Jack was trying to keep his face calm, but Lardo could see the pink rising on his cheeks, and the defensive shape his brows had taken. “You better be fast; everyone’s gonna want a piece of that.” Jack couldn’t ask her to clarify before she sauntered away to join the boys’ rowdy recital. 

“Tell me, you’re so into me… That I’m the only, one you will see. Tell me, I’m not in the blue… That I’m not wastin’ my feelings on you! ♪” The lyrics were slapping Jack straight in the face, and whenever Eric turned to fully face the audience, his dark eyes settled on Jack’s without anything more than a simple gaze. But the intensity with which Eric’s stare mustered had Jack feeling faint and bothered and terrified all together. The crowd was absolutely loving it, dancing and grinding together like a collective body. It took a good fight for Jack to approach the stage and escape the horrors of what was quickly becoming a mosh pit.

“Every time I look at you… my heart is jumpin’, what can I do? ♪” Eric’s eyes locked onto Jacks, brows turned up as if it were a real question. He erupted into another chorus, turning to dance for the crowd again. Jack was stuck, rooted to his spot there. Even as Eric’s song neared its end, he was captivated into stunned silence as he stood below him. Eric was so small, but on the short platform, his abdomen was resting right at eye level. It was a new view, to say the least, and it took everything in him to not reach out and grab him closer.

“You drive me crazy, baby! Excited, I’m in too deep… Oh god, it feels so right. Baby thinking of you keeps me up all night! ♪” Eric’s hands were sliding down his body as he sang, the background vocals resonating about the club, barely audible over the crowd. He could be mistaken for a popstar, what with how ardently the crowd was loving him. The song came to a swift end, with Eric’s eyes settled over their heads as he sang the last lines.

“You drive me crazy, but it feels so right… Baby thinking of you keeps me up all night! ♪”

“Damn!” DJ Happy shouted over the mic, rushing back around the turntables to usher Eric into a bow. “Britney don’t do that song justice! Everyone give it up to Eric Bitty!” The crowd roared over Eric’s unheard attempt to correct the DJ. Shitty jumped onto the stage and grabbed Eric up, bringing him down to be trampled by the team as if he’d just scored a game winning goal.

By the time the next singer was brave enough to try to follow that act up—which, the crowd was honestly so hype for anything—the team had settled into a half-moon booth to finish off their evening. Jack had just so happened to be seated beside Eric on the outside of the booth. Yes, he hadn’t meant to sit right next to him.

“Bitty, you’re insane,” Ransom sputtered, just drunk enough to find his own comment hilarious. 

“I would say I’m surprised but honestly I’m not,” Lardo shoved her shoulder into Eric’s, who’s cheeks were glowing a rosy pink with a smile plastered across them.

“Y’all are being far too nice,” he managed, “it’s karaoke, it’s not like I was on the Voice.”

“You could probably do it, man,” Holster took a long gulp from his beer. Shitty chimed in, pointing out that Eric would be perfect for television, while Jack took the opportunity to congratulate Eric on his performance.

“Oh Jack, you know it’s not that big of a deal,” Eric tried to brush it off, and Jack tried to ignore the fact that he lifted his eyes to gaze into Jack’s at the compliment. “But don’t think I didn’t see you dancing out there!” The chirp was so lighthearted it could barely be called a chirp, but suddenly, he was entirely too close to Eric. He couldn’t feel anything but the warmth from Eric’s bare arm, or hear anything but the rise and fall of Eric’s voice. 

By the time they made the Walk of Glory back to their hotel, Eric’s room key in hand, Jack felt frozen at the loss of his warmth. He watched Eric retreat to his room, waved goodnight, and stood there in the hall until Shitty pulled them into their own room.

 

Eric undressed and laid in bed, listening to the soft whistle that was Chowder’s voice whispering into his phone in the darkness of the room; he always called his mom on away games. He couldn’t believe how utterly fun that club had been. Not only was it a fun night for the team after a win, but he had somehow become the party MVP. It’s not like he was unaware that his natural voice was decent, hell he’d been the victim of many a karaoke party in his childhood. No, it was the actual tenacity with which the club’s occupants had enjoyed every last minute of it. Sure, none of the people that sang before or after him were exceptionally good or bad, but the way the club had just glommed onto him in particular was something new. He certainly wasn’t used to karaoke DJs giving him their number either. 

He was mostly amazed at the reactions he’d garnered from his captain. Eric did not want to flatter himself, but he felt like Jack had been glued to the way he was moving, his ears trained to the sound of his voice. He had been dancing for Jack, after all. Hell, maybe it was obvious because of the song he’d chosen; he was certain that any of his teammates would have assumed he’d picked Beyoncé.

It was silly, though. Jack was probably just as shocked as Shitty and Ransom and Holster were, and was distracted by the inappropriateness of his dancing. But a part deep inside him wished to believe that maybe Jack knew those words were for him, that he truly was up all night, thinking of him. Hell, here he was doing it now.

But he also knew it was hopeless. Even if Jack would accept his affections, it was too late. The season was almost over, but more importantly, Jack was graduating. He’d be heading off to the pros, and start his new career as a professional athlete. Anything else and Eric would be fine—CPA, doctor, engineer—but if there is one profession queers veer clear of, it’s the realm of athletics. Sure, some people had made leaps and bounds—really just baby steps—towards total diversity and inclusion, but the truth of the matter was straight in his face; Jack Zimmermann was one hundred percent focused on his career, and wouldn’t be stupid enough to let a young baker distract him from that.

With a heavy heart and a hoarse throat, Eric resigned himself to stare at the popcorn of his ceiling until he heard his alarm ringing the next morning.

 

~

Everyone was crying and laughing and toasting as the Haus sent off their seniors. Nearly every upperclassman’s parents were attendance, commending their children of their accomplishments. Of course, Eric was to thank for filling the Haus with sweet smells to distract the adults of the conditions their students seemed to call home. But even Eric’s goodies couldn’t permeate the bittersweet air of an emptying Haus. Stirring his Shirley Temple with his finger, Eric let his eyes cast over the crowd of gushing parents, quickly ushering their children out the door for pictures. Jack’s parents were outside mixing with the majority of the other adults, although they seemed like they inched closer and closer to their car with every passing minute.

Jack himself was busy discussing the specifications of his upcoming move, his new contract, and how excited he was to finally be playing pro. It was surprising to see him dodge everyone’s superb interest, considering how shy he was; guess he’d have to thicken his skin now, since he would be a world famous athlete.

The party was winding down, and Eric was pulling his suitcase down to sit by the door when the roar of commotion came leaking from the living room. Through the door’s archway he could see Ransom hyping up the crowd as they gathered around something near the television. 

“What’s all this racket?” Eric edged his way in, apologizing to the many curious patrons who were peeking over. He squeezed between Shitty and Nursey to find the source of the excitement: a karaoke machine. His stomach flipped at the contraption, obviously some new model that would make any dance club jealous. 

“Mama Chow, you’re out of this world,” Holster wept. Mrs. Chow stood awkwardly by her blushing son, going on about how much fun he had had when they went to the karaoke bar, and decided to make it a summer gift for the team. After the team passed her up and down with thankful hugs, Shitty quickly plugged it in while Lardo connected it to the Wi-Fi. The welcome screen displayed along with options to choose YouTube, Pandora, Spotify or iTunes. The crowd ooh’d and aw’d at the machine while a quick debate began about who should sing first. Eric consigned himself to staying a while longer to watch the festivities as the team sang mostly parent-friendly pop hits. 

It was getting closer and closer to when Eric’s airport shuttle would leave him stranded, and when he turned to leave, a hand softly stopped him.

“Leaving?” It was Jack. Eric nodded, not really wanting to accept the fact that he wouldn’t see Jack again. Okay, he would, but never like he had before. He wouldn’t live next door to him anymore, he wouldn’t have Jack’s company floating around him whenever he was home. It would be lonely, even with the admittance of new roommates and the everlasting presence of the frogs. 

“Can’t you stay?” Jack’s eyes were even, but his brow was trembling, like he was fighting to hold this casual face. Eric checked his watch—he really couldn’t afford to stay any longer—but agreed anyways. Oh well, maybe he could just bus himself home if he missed his flight. Jack cracked a small smile and turned back to the commotion. The humor of the room had risen from bittersweet to blissful, and it was evident on everyone’s faces. Sure, the seniors were leaving, but they were far from gone.

“Why don’t you sing?” Eric nudged playfully. Jack went rigid at his touch, which immediately sent Eric aback. Instead of excusing himself, however, Jack walked over to the center of the room. Dex was nearly finished performing his rendition of “Pretty Fly for a White Guy” which had left the crowd nearly double bent in laughter. The laughter quieted when Jack took the microphone after Dex bowed. The team was holding a collective breath as he struggled to type the name of his song into the machine (Lardo helped). Eric was frozen where he stood, although when he saw Jack’s tiny motion to come forward, he complied. 

The piano struck up, and the familiar sound made Eric want to vomit. Jack looked suddenly so big there next to the machine, microphone in hand, as the crowd cheered him on.

“Cause you’re a sky… cause you’re a sky full of stars… I’m gonna give you my heart ♪” Jack’s accent came out much more so while he sang, and Eric had to fight himself against swooning. The effect was not exclusive, as the crowd was obviously stunned. The group had grown since the neighboring households heard the singing, so the room was packed with Jack as the sole interest.

“I don’t care, go on and tear it apart. I don’t care if you do… ♪” Jack’s eyes were settled on a point far above the crowd; it was obvious that he was uncomfortable. His voice, however, did not waver. It was strong and smooth, rich enough that Eric found himself inching closer to where he stood. Those standing around him also seemed to have nestled him at the front, softly edging Eric until he was the point of the crowd.

“Cause in a sky, cause in a sky full of stars, I think I saw you ♪” Jack’s eyes finally settled on Eric’s. All at once, it was too much. Eric wanted to run away and hide, vomit, and tackle Jack all at the same time. Jack himself was smiling now, a gentle blush rising up to his cheeks. The crowd was clapping to the beat while a few couples were dancing to the soft melody. It wasn’t a pop song, or anything they’d play in a club, but given the mood of the room, it was rather appropriate.

“Cause you’re a sky full of stars… I wanna lie in your arms. You get lighter the more it gets dark, I’m gonna give you my heart ♪” It was so warm in the room. If Eric wasn’t so enwrapped in Jack, he’d see Ransom and Holster fist bumping discreetly, or see Chowder flail a few steps behind him. He would see Lardo and Shitty share a knowing look, and be absolutely relieved that Mr. and Mrs. Zimmermann had left quite some time ago. Instead, he noticed none of that. All there was, was Jack, himself, and that silly looking microphone in Jack’s hands. 

“Cause you’re a sky full of stars, it’s such a heavenly view ♪” Jack’s voice was gliding through the air, and Eric never wanted to hear him stop. The music was blaring as his heart pounded his eardrums, and Jack’s eyes bore into him like the icy things they were. The music quieted, and after one short moment of silence, the crowd erupted into applause. Jack himself beamed and blushed at the attention, setting the microphone down gently. He turned to face the room again only to see that Eric had disappeared. As the din of the room suddenly became too much he set out straight ahead, cleaving the masses as some unknowing soul approached to turn the party back towards exuberance.

Outside, Jack’s chest was beginning to hurt. Eric was nowhere to be seen, which was not a good sign. Had he left to catch his shuttle? Was his luggage still in the Haus? His head spun as he ran about the building, desperately looking for a vantage point to see if he could spot that unmistakable golden hair. Instead, he found Eric sitting, luggage-less, in the neighbor’s front yard. 

“Bittle,” Jack gasped out, causing his head to snap around to him. His big eyes were even bigger, and terribly wet. Jack nearly tumbled to his knees as he rushed over to him, his large hands landing on Eric’s slender, toned shoulders. 

“Jack,” Eric choked, “you… I…”

“I’m sorry,” Jack’s brain was melting as they sat in the May warmth, and he thought he might as well lay down and melt into the lawn beneath him. Eric’s shoulders seized at his words, and his tear stained cheeks somehow ended up much closer to his face than he expected.

“Don’t you apologize Jack Zimmermann,” his big eyes threatened to swallow him up whole. Jack decided that wouldn’t be too bad. “You didn’t sing that for me…”

“Yes I did,” Jack said, genuinely confused, “Every word, I did. Was that… not okay?” Eric shook his head vigorously; it seemed as if he was trying to justify his thoughts before speaking them, but no words left his mouth. 

“You… you like… tell me what you meant,” Eric laid his shaky hand on Jack’s, “by singing it.”

“I like you,” Jack said a little too matter-of-factly. “Uh, I mean, I really like you.” Jack was surprised; Eric was always so tuned in to things such as this, he was sure the gesture would have been obvious. Or, maybe Eric was just as confused as he was. That was a comforting thought. Eric nodded, and a slow, gooey smile spread his face. 

“I like you too, Lord only knows for how long,” Eric sighed exasperatedly. “Back when we were in Philadelphia, I didn’t think you had understood what I had meant… or that you just didn’t feel the same way.” Jack rubbed his hand down his face; of course, his silence had bred believed indifference. All this time, he could have been holding Eric’s hand rather than just watch it pass by him.

“Eric, I don’t want to leave you,” Jack’s use of his first name caused a shiver to go up Eric’s spine. Jack’s hands snaked around to cradle the smaller boy awkwardly, though Eric turned into the embrace willingly. “I don’t know how, but I want… I, uh, I would like to… crisse,” Jack swore, a hand flying up to tug at his hair. It was honestly pretty cute to see him so confounded, but Eric placed his hand on Jack’s warm cheek, reveling in how he stalled under his touch.

“I would like to stay in contact with you too,” Eric nearly laughed out. Jack smiled a crooked, half smile and nodded, leaning his head down to rest on Eric’s.

“I am not good at this,” he groaned, “so be warned.” Eric laughed wholly at that, pulling Jack’s heavy weight against him. 

“I’m not much better,” he sighed blissfully, “so we’re both screwed.”

The two separated after a shot while, Jack apologizing for Eric’s missed shuttle, then apologizing even more vehemently when Eric noted that his flight home had left as well. A short bickering session and one plane ticket later, Jack was sending Eric off on the campus shuttle, the loss of his warmth already too much to bear. Eric’s frame was disappearing into the bus when he suddenly disappeared. Jack needn’t look for long, as Eric snuck around to pull his shirt, planting a loud, quick kiss on Jack’s lips. Stunned, amazed, and a little dizzy, Jack waved as the bus shuttled him away towards Georgia. Only a few seconds passed before Jack felt his phone buzz in his pocket; despite having many missed messages and calls from his parents, there was one message sitting at the top: I’ll see you soon <3.

After that, everything just fell into place. Jack immediately inquired about when they would see each other again, and bought the plane tickets the moment he hung up the phone with Eric. He ensured he had the proper time off for the trip, and set three different reminders for the same event: Bittle’s House. The euphoria of Jack’s life was so intense one would imagine he was a superstar athlete; thank god that he was. He was able to hide all of the excitement and happiness he hadn’t felt in years on the opportunity to play professionally. Although, he’d be lying if he would be happier if his jersey had a different name than Zimmermann…

Eric was so giddy he couldn’t contain himself. He volunteered at the summer camp in Madison like he did every year, but he did so with such fervent enthusiasm one might have thought he was preparing to be a child care specialist. The children all remarked on how happy Mr. Bitty always was, and he could only reveal that life is such a wondrous thing it’d be wasteful not to bask in it. The children never really read into it.

Every night, the last thing Eric saw before falling asleep was Jack’s face. They had a system: communication through the day wavered due to both of their life’s hassles, but when they both eventually found their way to bed, they would skype. Eric shared his day’s events while Jack hummed blissfully, and Jack explained the finer mechanics of being a Providence Falconers rookie. Their lives couldn’t be more different, yet they somehow never ran out of things to share. 

As the mercury rose a particular July day, Eric was nearly vibrating at a terminal in Atlanta International Airport. It had been 39 days since they’d last seen each other in person, 39 excruciatingly long days since their bodies had touched. The moment Jack stepped out of his gate, he caught an armful of Eric, who was wrapping himself around Jack like he may fall if he didn’t. Placing his suitcase near his feet he returned the embrace, ignoring the jabbing blows of the eyes around them. Eric seemed oblivious, perhaps because they were so far from home. Tucking his head into his hands, Jack let his lips fall onto Eric’s, and they stood there, posed like the Marine and his Girl coming home from WWII. 

“Oh, I missed you, Mr. Zimmermann,” Eric murmured against his mouth. Jack smiled and lifted him back to his feet, firmly grasping his hand within his own.

“Bitty, I really missed you too.”


End file.
